


Cyclone in a Teacup

by lokilickedme



Series: Tempest [7]
Category: Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Loki laufeyson - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dark Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Does What He Wants, POV Loki, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a conjugal visit to Midgard, Loki encounters something new - a willingness to accept no for an answer.  Part 7 of the Tempest series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cyclone in a Teacup

**Author's Note:**

> One thing I always wonder about while reading explicitly sexual fics is how the characters would deal with one of them getting their period. The specifics of Loki in particular dealing with it especially intrigues me - so I took it upon myself to figure out what he would do if his bed partner suddenly told him no and then tried to explain to him why. This is how I imagine it would go down. 
> 
> Yes, I know, this isn't really what you're here for...but if two people bump uglies for long enough, eventually they're going to confront this issue, right?

 

 

It has been weeks since we last saw one another.  I am hungry for her to the point of ravenousness, though she seems in no hurry to oblige my desire.  We are in our saferoom, our Fury-approved haven, where we can commit whatever atrocities we wish against one another without setting the world on fire.

She does not seem herself.  I lay my hand on her shoulder, the one I dislocated the last time I made love to her, giving it a hard squeeze and watching her face for signs of pain.  There are none.  She seems to suffer no longterm consequences from my previous rough handling.

 _Good,_ I think to myself.  That means I can continue playing rough.  Oh, how I do enjoy playing rough with my little sweetheart.

I tug her up against my chest, pulling her up to her toes so that I don't have to bend over quite so far to taste her lips.  I often find myself wishing she were larger in stature, but there is something about her petiteness that is alluring.  She is easily dominated, and though, as a god, I could toss her around no matter what size she is, I enjoy the fact that it is an effortless endeavor to have her completely and irrefutably under my physical control without the use of my magic.  To date, I have never utilized seidhr on her with the exception of healing.  I even tie her restraints myself, when our perversions carry us in that particular direction.  

Tonight I find myself anxious and in a hurry to bend her to my will.  I have hastily removed her skirt, but there is something in her mood that makes her defy me, and she does not go easily - by her human standards, at any rate.  She knows that I enjoy the thrill of overtaking my prey so I humor her, letting her think she is getting away from me momentarily as she scrambles across the bed, her delicious little ass barely covered by the lace panties I was in the process of removing from her when she slipped from my grasp.  I shoot her a warning look, letting her know without words that I am in no mood for games.  

I circle the bed, cornering her.  She kicks at me and I grab her ankle, twisting it just enough to flip her onto her stomach and render her helpless. She curses me and I smile; she seems genuinely angry, and the tone of her words inflames my loins with a throbbing lust that I fully intend to take out on her.  The reason for her mood is irrelevant to me.  

I climb onto the bed and straddle her, holding her arms as she struggles, her knees coming up to kick me in the back as she puts up a valiant, if laughably weak, fight.  One of her arms slips loose of my grip and she slaps me, hard, across the face.

It is the first time she's ever struck me with intent.  

I barely feel it, of course - in terms of force, the blow is the equivalent of a soft breeze caressing my cheek.  Perhaps if I were a mortal human it would have stopped me for a moment, but I am not, and it does not.  What it _does_   do is excite me all the more, and I press down on her shoulders to keep her still as I shove my knee up between her legs to completely immobilize her.  Thinking to soothe her with a kiss, I put my mouth to hers and receive a hard, sharp bite to my lower lip.  Again, the pain is negligible, but I feel a flash of anger and before I think what I am doing, I draw back and slap her with the back of my hand.

She cries out and I see blood spray across the bed.  Damn - I hadn't meant for that to happen.  But she recovers quickly and resumes fighting against me, cursing and screaming, kicking at me, her small hands slipping from my grasp and striking at my face.  For such a small mortal, she is surprisingly full of bravery and spirit.  But I must tend to her injured face, so I put away my inflamed lust for the moment and subdue her by putting my knees on her upper arms.  She is not happy about this, and I find myself shushing her as if she were a child having a nightmare.

Eventually she calms and I take her face in my hands, holding her head still so I can inspect what damage I have done.  Her lip is split and bleeding copiously, and a blackening bruise is spreading from the bend of her jaw to her chin; it appears her cheekbone may be fractured.  I quickly lay my palm over the side of her face and direct my healing energy toward it, closing my eyes as I feel the power drain through my hand.  I feel momentarily weakened but keep my eyes locked to hers, watching the pain and bruising lessen and then vanish.  But there is another look in her eyes beneath the pain, and I sense that I am in trouble.

"I am sorry," I tell her quietly.  "I did not mean to - "

She suddenly thrashes beneath me, demanding that I get off her.  I refuse, of course...there will be no quarter given this night, but I am curious nonetheless about this turn of behavior.  She has never refused me, never reacted in anger, and she has certainly never said no.  

I give her a shake, pushing her down into the mattress with my hands on her shoulders, and find myself resorting to threats to make her settle. "Do not make me strike you again," I warn in a menacing tone.  "I can easily kill you with one gentle slap, so _do not anger me."_

She knows better than to doubt me.  She nods her obedience, and I remove myself from atop her, letting her scoot away from me for a moment before I give her a warning look and put my hand out.  She looks at it, her face an adorable mask of defiant anger, and knowing she is outmanned, she finally takes it and I pull her back over to me.

She does not want to be held.  Her body is stiff and unyielding, the first time I have ever felt it so.  I experience a moment of confusion, with conflicting feelings crashing into one another; my desire to fuck her is the strongest one by far, but there is a lesser desire struggling against it, one that I can only interpret as concern.  It irritates me, but I have grown to care for this woman, so I give in to it and let it overpower the other.

"What is wrong, pet?"  She is sitting next to me, refusing to soften her posture enough to settle against me.  I stroke her arm but she yanks it away. "Have I upset you?  I apologized for hitting you, was that not enough?"

She sniffles and I realize she has started to cry.  Tears annoy me more than defiance, but I keep my temper under control and ask her again what is wrong.  I shouldn't have to ask more than once and ordinarily this transgression would result in punishment, but I sense something larger is amiss here than just offense taken at an accidental slap.

"If you do not tell me, I shall have to force you to.  Do you want that?"

She shakes her head.  Normally I do not allow this as an adequate answer - it is disrespectful and impertinent.  I overlook it for now, though, because she is suddenly looking at me with tearful eyes and a trembling lip.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.  

I move closer to her, rather than pulling her to me.  "Will you not tell me what is wrong?" I ask, refraining from touching her.  She seems to need space that is hers alone, without me in it.

She wipes her face with her palm.  "I'm not feeling well," she answers in a wavering, small voice.  

"Are you ill?"

"No."

"Then what is it?  I can probably help you."  I am growing increasingly frustrated and it is looking more and more like sex is about to be taken off the table.  While this wouldn't have meant anything to me in the past and I would have simply taken it anyway, there is something almost heartbreaking in her demeanor, and I do not wish to force her if she is truly not well.

Inwardly I am rolling my eyes at the realization that I may very well be pussywhipped.  

 _When one consorts with mortals...look at what happened to Thor._ Quickly I put my brother out of my mind - his is the last face I want to see in my head while I am trying to get laid.  

I notice the woman's arms are clutched around her stomach and I lay my hand across her belly, hoping she will let me soothe her.  I have the ability to take away pain, but I need to know what is wrong with her. This behavior is very uncustomary and I am beginning to feel slightly worried; I press my hand into the soft curve of her abdomen and feel no solid mass, relieved that she is not with child.  A baby would most decidedly cut into our playtime, not to mention I am not entirely certain she would survive nine months of carrying my halfblood child.  She pulls my hand away.

"It's okay," she finally says, still holding onto my hand.  "I'm just really uncomfortable and I don't want to be touched."  She winces when I put my fingers to her stomach again.  "Please don't, Loki."

It is the first time she has ever used my name outside of screaming it during orgasm.  I let my face show my confusion and she sighs as if resigning herself to an unpleasant fate.

"It's my period.  It really hurts."

I have no idea what she is talking about, so I simply stare at her.  She looks at me as if I am stupid, but for the first time in my long life it does not give me the urge to kill something.  She seems to be struggling to find words that will make sense to me.

"What would your people call it?"  She thinks for a moment.  "My cycle."  I am sure my face is blank, and she is becoming as frustrated as me. "Bleeding," she finally says, gesturing toward her lap.  "I'm bleeding, Loki."

"You mean you are menstruating?"

 _"Yes._  Wait, I haven't heard that word since fifth grade when they gave us the little booklet."

I am confused again, even more so because I do not understand why she would not allow me to touch her.

"It is uncomfortable enough that you do not wish to engage in sex?  Because I can ease that if you let me."  I reach for her again, but she moves away, gripping my wrists to try to keep my hands off her.

"No, Loki, please," she whines, "I don't know how you do it back home, but we usually wait until it's over."

I've had enough of this and I grab her around the waist, tugging her toward me so that she slides under me as I move over her.   _"Nonsense,"_   I growl, pressing my mouth to her throat and biting roughly.  "There is no reason to abstain."  She struggles against me, reigniting my prurient desires.

"Yes there is!" she protests.  She sounds as if she means it.  I stop biting her and give her a look that shows the full extent of my irritation.

"You are being a silly girl.  It's just blood - do you honestly think it bothers me?"  I push my hand between her thighs and she begs me to stop, her voice shaking but full of absolute determination.  I do not know why, but I decide to respect her wishes.

I still, however, have a very large and very uncomfortable erection to deal with.  She has removed the option of intercourse, though for the life of me I cannot understand why.  But her delicate human female sensibilities, however ridiculous they sound to me, are not something I wish to toy with, and for the first time in my adult life I find myself willing to let a woman tell me I cannot do something.  Thor would have a field day with this. I am not sure how I feel about this new development, but I do know one thing - I am every bit as uncomfortable as she has claimed to be, so I suppose that puts us on equal ground.

Frustrated now to the point of callousness, I push her down on the bed again and turn her over, my hands going to her panties to pull them down. There are ways around her inhibitions, and I have yet to plunder her sweet little ass; she has felt my fingers in her tiny tight passage, but thus far I have spared her the punishing girth of my cock in her bottom.  She cries out in protest, struggling to get away from me, knowing instantly what my intentions are.  She writhes against the strength of my hands holding her still, her voice breaking as she begs me not to do it.

"Be quiet," I bark at her, and she falls silent, understanding the seriousness of my tone.  "The more you struggle the more this will hurt.  So lie still."  I crouch on my knees, straddling her hips as I position her, pulling her bottom up to ease my entrance into her.  I can hear her sobbing quietly into the bedspread, her little hands clenching tightly around nothing.  There is despair and fear in the sounds coming from her throat.

I do not know why I stop.  I know what I'm about to do will hurt her, but I also know she is not averse to allowing me to give her pain so long as I heal her when it is over.  I fully intend to take away whatever injury I inflict.  But something is hissing at me in the back of my mind, somewhere on the periphery of my conscience, urging me to respect what she has asked of me.  

For the second time, I allow her to dictate to me what I cannot do.

I am not as angered by this as I would have been had she been anyone else in the nine realms.  But she is not anyone else.  She is my woman, the female I have bonded to, and she has finally said no.  I move away from her, leaving my hand resting on the small of her back as I lie down next to her.  She does not look at me, but shifts so that her face is against my shoulder.  

After a short while, once her breathing has calmed, I reach down and slide my hand under her stomach, letting my healing energy soothe away her discomfort.  She sighs as the pain ebbs away, pressing closer to me.

"Thank you," she whispers quietly.  

I lie beside her for a long while, my thoughts whirling boisterously in my head until I finally accept what they are screaming at me.  This is more than sex.  It is more than consortium.  It is more even than affection and friendship, wild passion and uncontrolled desire.  It is a heady combination of all of it, intensely volatile elements with something else thrown in to temper them.  I cannot bring myself to say it, not even inside my own skull, but I know I will have to come to terms with it one day. But that day is not today.

Today is the day I'm getting my cock sucked, one way or another.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
